Spike stretched out naked on the bed. The specially treated windows in Angel's Wolfram and Hart apartment rendered the sunlight harmless. He'd always loved lying in the sun after sex. Not that he'd had very many chances before he'd been turned, none at all in fact. Although he was sure he'd have loved it if the situation had ever arisen.

"Why can't I have magic windows in my room?" he whined.

"Because the sun makes you look all pasty," Angel retorted, pulling the sheet up to his midriff.

"I'm not the one hiding my paunch behind the sheet, peaches."

"I do not have a paunch!" Angel insisted, pulling the sheet higher.

"You do," Spike said with a smirk, "though how you got so fat on an all pigs blood diet buggers belief."

"Who invited you up here, anyway?"

"You did. Well, I say invited more like snogged me senseless and dragged me up here by the hair. That's what happens when all your repressed poofiness bursts out after two hundred years."

"I am not."

"Not what," Spike rolled onto his side, "repressed or a poof? Cause I hate to tell you this, mate, but your trying to fuck me through the mattress just then seems to prove me right."

"I temporarily lost my soul," Angel lied. What's your excuse?"

"I was a ghost till the other day, haven't been able to have so much as a wank for months and months. It was either shag you or shag Harmony and out of the two of you you're more of a girl."

"Says you, blondie."

Spike flexed his biceps, "I'm the picture of masculinity, me."

"Yes. Yes, you are. Tiny, bleached blond masculinity."

Spike jerked the sheet away from Angel and nodded down at his crotch. "Bleach gets you excited then?"

"There are cups next to the fridge," Angel called after Spike's retreating backside. "Don't drink out of the bottle."

"You big girl," Spike called back, producing a bottle of pigs blood from the fridge and swigging directly from it.

"Tell you what, you just have the rest of that. I'm not going to drink it after it's been in your mouth, I don't know what else has been in there."

"Your dick most recently," said Spike crossing back onto the bed, lying down and balancing the bottle of pigs blood on his chest and taking occasional slurps from it.

"Do you have to eat in bed?" Angel complained.

"Were you this fussy with Buffy?" Spike asked, then in a quite good impersonation of Angel's voice he said, "'No, sweetie, don't bring your crossbow into bed. It offends my inner interior decorator.' No wonder she shacked up with me, probably wanted a real man."

"Probably wanted a woman, more like. Didn't you ever wonder what was going on with her and Faith?"

Spike gazed at Angel like a man who'd just found religion. "That explains everything."

"Doesn't it just? Look, if you will insist on making yourself at home you can do something useful and get the lube out of the top drawer."

Spike leaned over to retrieve it muttering something that sounded a bit like 'Bloody finally!'

Many, many, many, many floors down Wesley, Gunn, Fred and Lorne were looking around the mostly empty conference room.

"Does anyone know where Angel is?" asked Wes.

"He's probably having noisy, angry sex with Spike," said Gunn. He looked around at the horrified, fascinated and very slightly turned on looks that the rest of the group were giving him. "Come on, I'm just saying what we're all thinking."

"I'm not sure that it is," mused Fred. "Angry sex, that is. I mean they've hardly been fighting at all recently, more just bickering. If anything it's probably very slightly cross sex."

For a few moments they sat in silence in deep contemplation of their boss's sex life. Then Lorne asked the question they'd all been secretly thinking.